Teresa eagerly awaited the moments Idolina spent in the house but, in addition to being very brief, they were so taken up with plans and preparations for going out once more that it was impossible to exchange any words other than an order, an instruction or a sign of compliance. How different this rushing, restless Idolina, pink with excitement, was from the other one, the inert girl whose strength was used up by shifting positions in bed.

But the people that we are in succession are never entirely lost; they are not buried. They survive, they hide, and as soon as a favorable occasion arises, they come onstage once more and stand in the spotlight.

One rainy day Idolina woke up tired and didn’t want to get out of bed. As in the old days, Teresa lit the brazier and knelt down in a corner of the room.

“Tell me a story, nana,” the girl asked lazily.

Teresa, who was a fount of fantastical tales, didn’t want to tell any story but the one the girl hadn’t asked her about: the story of what she did during the months she abandoned the house.

Teresa began to speak. Idolina was distracted by the water drumming against the roof tiles and windowpanes and barely caught a few disconnected phrases of the narration. Teresa made a desperate effort to get the girl to listen; when she reached the point where she arrived at the cave of Tzajal-hemel with Rosendo and Felipa, she claimed that the ilol had spoken to her (as if, under Teresa’s insignificant exterior, she had recognized a very powerful canán) to tell her that the promises of the ashes would be fulfilled. Her girl was already well again. Now it only remained for the stepfather and the mother to die, and she would be free.

Idolina sat up to gaze severely at her nana.

“Don’t lie to me!”

Teresa made the sign of the cross over her mouth and Idolina fell back onto the pillows.

“When will it stop raining?” she asked, looking impatiently out the window.

“If you go, will you take me with you?” the nana wanted to know.

Idolina made a gesture of assent. But where would she go? What would she have to leave behind? Suddenly she was shaken by a shiver of fear. She needed to talk to Julia.

“Get me an umbrella. We’re going out.”

Idolina was already standing up, starting to dress.

Mistress and maid walked through the deserted streets, seeking a way to ford the torrent of mud, dirty water and trash at every corner. La Alazana had to change Idolina’s soaking wet socks for some dry ones. The Indian woman went to warm up beside the stove.